Damn instincts
by pokemoncha
Summary: Your name is John Egbert, and shit if you haven't gotten yourself into one hell of a situation. WARNINGS: rape/noncon/alpha/beta/omega dynamics (may write more for this AU. don't know yet.)


Your name is John Egbert, and shit if you haven't gotten yourself into one hell of a situation.

What is that situation, you wonder? Well…

You're currently standing in the door of you best friend's room, who looks like a deer caught in headlights, and, well, you guess you can't blame him. He's an omega, you're an alpha. He's in heat, and the sweet smell he releases is demanding you that you jump him. Right. The fuck. Now.

Except you can't do that, because he's Dave. He's your best friend, and he'd never forgive you if you came onto him while he had to deal with his heat, the thing you promised you'd protect him from the moment he found out he was an omega(not to mention you'd never forgive yourself).

You briefly let your mind wander to that moment.

...

When Dave found out he was an omega, everyone had been surprised. It had seemed so unlikely for him, and everyone just assumed he would be an alpha like his brother, or at least a beta. So needless to say, when he gained the scent of an omega, he felt horribly insecure. It didn't help that not even a day could pass without a few alphas harassing him, to the point he spend most of his time in his apartment. Nothing uncommon for omegas to do, but it hurt to see him like this.

You promised yourself(and Dave) that you'd protect him from 'evil alphas' till your last breath.

That didn't work out as well as you hoped when you acquired your own scent. The scent of an alpha.

You were an alpha.

And his scent hadn't ever been more obvious. It made you want to pull your hair out, because every moment around him, every single second was torture. But you restrained yourself, and kept being the good friend you were. As hard as it was, you didn't want him to get hurt.

…

"John," he says, voice lacking its usual even, cool tone. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You swallow. "Uh, Dave. You didn't reply on pesterchum. I-I was worried," you tell him. It's the truth. You had tried to contact him for hours, and he hadn't said a thing back. It was only natural you'd come to check up.

He sighs, uncomfortably shifting. "I'm fine, John, now get out," you know why he wants you gone. You're perfectly fine with the reason. Your mind says you should go.

Yet you don't make a move to indicate you're going leaving anytime soon. His sweet smell is pulling you in, telling you to give in to your instincts.

You can't help yourself as you slowly start walking towards him.

You particularly see him shrink back. "Dude, back off," he growls, but it isn't threatening in any way, shape or form. You think it might've been intended that way, though.

Before you know it, you're looming over him, more at mercy of your instincts than you've ever been. God, he smells heavenly, you want nothing more than to just-

No! He's- he's your best friend! He's like the brother you never had! You can't do this to him!

You let out a noise that could almost be considered feral, and roughly push him onto his bed. He gasps, and starts to struggle. "John, let go! Let me go!" he yells at you.

You shudder at the sound of his voice. He sounds genuinely scared. He should be, considering what you're doing to him. You take off his shades and your glasses, and toss them to the side. They will only get in the way. "I'm sorry Dave, I really am," you mutter to him, before you dive in and kiss him full on his mouth, forcing your tongue in, tasting him. He fights you for a moment, before his omega instincts kick in, making him submit and kiss back, albeit shakily and full of anxiety. His lips slide against yours, and your tongues twine.

After a while, though, you both have to pull back for air, the both of you panting and gasping as you do, but another whiff of his delicious smell sends you straight to his neck, sucking and biting, marking him and making him let out pitiful and protesting whines.

"J-John…" he stutters "please, s-stop."

But you're completely high on pheromones by now, and you can't help yourself as you start rutting against him, lifting his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock springs free, standing at full attention thanks to what you're doing to him and his heat. You waste no time in grabbing it and stroking, at which he lets out loud moan.

It doesn't take long before your instincts demand you do something about your own raging hard on, and you pull away from him to take the time to undo yourself of your own clothes, pulling him against you as soon as you're done. This time, instead of grabbing his dick, you allow your hand to travel lower, and he sucks in a sharp breath when you touch his dripping wet hole. Self-lubricating, how convenient.

God, you're torn between just shoving your dick in him, or at least have the decency to somewhat prepare him. Your dazed mind isn't sure what to do.

He whimpers pathetically when you idly rub against his entrance, and you can feel a tremor going through his body. His eyes meet yours, and you can see his plea to not do this. That you just stop right there, and don't hurt him.

You really don't want to hurt him.

The pheromones tell you you shouldn't care. He can take it, of course he can take it, he's an omega, what are you even waiting for-

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sensation of sliding into something hot, wet, and by the pained scream of Dave.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

You hadn't even noticed you'd guided your thicker than normal dick into him. Your hormones and instincts have completely taken over, and Dave is trashing against you, hitting you in as many places as he can, shouting curses at you, which you barely even comprehend as you're overwhelmed by his inner walls clenching on your cock. It feels good, really fucking good, and if you were in a more sensible state of mind, you'd probably be disgusted by yourself.

You move.

It takes moments before Dave stops squirming and relaxes, his heat forcing him to do so, to allow you to drive into him. His cries don't stop, although they are now being interrupted by sobs and gasps. You're pretty sure he's crying.

You can feel yourself getting closer as your dick swells, to the point you almost can't thrust anymore, and you're just kind of rocking your hips.

A sensation of moist heat rushes around you, and Dave's walls tightening indicates his unwanted orgasm, and you lose it, hitting your own peak, sending loads and loads of seeds into your poor best friend(if you even have the right to call him that, after what you've done to him.) You can't pull away because of the knotting, so you're stuck watching Dave tremble and moan in discomfort, the occasional 'no' escaping him.

The pheromones are finally wearing off, and your length is returning to its normal size. You pull out of Dave's shaking body as soon as you can(though carefully, you don't want to hurt him more than you already have.) and god, you feel like biggest asshole in the history of assholes. Dave trusted you. He fucking trusted you. And what do you do? Take advantage of him while he is incapable of doing anything about it. Some friend you are.

You slump down, careful not to land on him. He's already a mess, so he doesn't need any extra weight on him. He's silently weeping to himself, and you're overcome with the sudden urge to hold him close, tell him it's going to be ok, he'd be fine. To protect him, if you will, even more so than otherwise, even though you're the cause of the state he's in right now.

"…Dave?" you ask, voice hesitant.

He doesn't reply.

You swallow. "Dave? … I'm really sorry Dave."

His eyes shoot towards you, and he glares, glares in a way you've never seen him do before. Full of anger, sadness and betrayal. He holds it for a few moments, before turning away from you, curling onto himself. "Whatever," his tone is cold and shaky. "It already happened. There's no turning back time. You-you already…" his voice dies down, and he's back to sobbing.

You wish you could help him. Your instincts are telling you you should comfort him, and you carefully pull him against you. He winces, but lets you, most likely because he's too sore and in pain to resist.

You feel like the lowest scum on the earth.

Neither of you two move, and you feel tiredness coming over you.

You fall asleep to Dave's soft crying.


End file.
